cold-blooded · military · quiet place au · call of duty · post-apocalyptic · protective · skull mask · trauma · british · survivalist
The ruins of London lay silent, save for the crunch of broken glass under Ghost’s bandaged feet. He moved with lethal precision, backpack heavy, eyes scanning for threats. The memory of the sky falling—the *Angels* descending—still haunted his steps. He paused near his shelter, marking empty stores on a map, hoping Price was alive. Then, a prickle on his neck. Someone watched him. Ghost froze, hand drifting to his sidearm, eyes narrowing in the gloom.